


In the Spirit of the Season

by WritingEmi



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorian Pavus Feels, Fluff, From Sex to Love, Holidays, Humor, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8381134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingEmi/pseuds/WritingEmi
Summary: Dorian spends the holidays in Ferelden, pines a little and wonders at Fereldan traditions, but is then pleasantly distracted and helped out by the Iron Bull.
AU - Modern Setting





	1. Wintersend

**Author's Note:**

> This is possibly the first of a series of Thedas holiday fics, starting with Wintersend.

Standing out alone on the back patio of Lavellan’s house, Dorian looked out at the night sky and the snow dusted trees in the distance. Behind him the holiday party Lavellan was hosting was still raging on, tipping to the point where most of the guests were happily inebriated, but not overly so. It was kind of her to invite him and the gesture sparked a small hope within him that they were becoming friends.

He smiled to himself thinking about her outraged reaction when she found out that he spent First Day by himself and insisted he come to her holiday party and to participate in her Secret Santa exchange. She even somehow managed to persuade him to agree to come have dinner with her and her boyfriend, Cullen, on Wintersend Eve.

Ellana Lavellan was a professor in his history graduate program, specializing in ancient elven civilization. He wasn’t taking any of her classes, but one of his other professors suggested that he speak with her. They had a few lively, but friendly, scholarly debates about ancient elven and Tevinter history during her office hours in the beginning of the school year. After that Lavellan made it a point to have lunch with him on a regular basis.

Dorian knew he should go back inside and try to make nice with what seemed to be half of Skyhold University’s faculty, it was a rather small campus and it felt like Lavellan knew just about everyone. He moved to Skyhold only a few months ago on his own at the start of the semester and all he had to show for it was a tentative friendship with Lavellan and a small collection of acquaintances that didn’t outwardly hate him. But he felt tired of being on guard and standing on the sidelines to watch other people have fun.

Dorian was painfully aware of how he came off to other people, too arrogant, too standoffish, and completely unashamed of his magic and his homeland. He was the embodiment of everything they expected a Tevinter Magister to be, despite the fact that he was an Altus, and it earned him unease at best, and open hostility at worst. Because of this, most of the party attendees kept their distance from him, with only a few exceptions.

No one would miss him while he stood outside and looked out at the fresh blanket of snow in Lavellan’s backyard and the way it sparkled in the full moon. For all that he hated the Blighted Fereldan cold, at least it was beautiful in its silence.

“Hey, vint!”

Dorian tensed and then relaxed as he recognized the boom of the Iron Bull’s voice. Iron Bull was the owner of a small coffee shop near campus and a friend of Lavellan’s, he was also an acquaintance of Dorian’s. While Dorian expected Iron Bull to dislike him instantly, especially since Dorian had the habit of occupying one of shop’s tables for hours on end with only ever buying a single cup of coffee, the Iron Bull was always friendly towards him. Any slight upon Dorian’s heritage and homeland was always said in a good natured jest and Iron Bull always laughed loudly at Dorian’s comebacks.

Iron Bull, dressed in a festive red Wintersend sweater, stepped up beside Dorian and handed him a beaten up flask.

“What are you doing out here? Thought you hated the cold.”

“Needed some air,” Dorian answered before opening the flask and taking a sniff at it. Dorian recognized it immediately as Antivan brandy and took an appreciative sip. “Thank you,” Dorian said, handing back the flask, “that’s quite good.”

“It’s my secret Santa present from Josephine,” he replied, referring to Josephine Montilyet, a professor in political science. “The brandy, not the flask." 

“I figured as much. She has excellent taste.” 

“So do you. Saw that scarf you got Cullen, it’s probably the nicest thing he owns now.”

“I think Lavellan likes it more than he does,” Dorian replied. The smile on her face as she wrapped the deep red cashmere scarf around Cullen’s neck was well worth the whole endeavor to find the present for the former Templar and attend the party.

“If she likes it, then he definitely likes it. You did good, big guy.” Bull took another drink and passed the flask to Dorian again.

“And what did you get for Seeker Pentaghast? I believe she blushed when she opened her gift, but I didn’t see what it was. She was quick to shove it back into the bag.”

“They came out with a graphic novel version of _Swords & Shields_, I think Cass will enjoy it,” Iron Bull grinned broadly. “Keeping it classy, like the real Santa.”

Dorian snorted before taking a long drink. “Did you know that in Tevinter, Santa is a cursed Magister who doesn’t bring presents, but instead places hot coals into naughty children’s stockings? Not having burned feet is supposed to be present enough for good children.”

Iron Bull’s eye widened before he burst into a loud and hearty laugh. “Seriously!? Oh fuck, that explains so much about vints! No wonder Krem sneers at mall Santas. Do kids not get presents then?”

“They do, just not from Santa. Parents in Tevinter are not that cruel, but sometimes children receive a lump of coal as a warning.”

“I bet you ended up with a lot of coal as a kid.”

“Still do,” Dorian smirked, draining the flask and handing it back empty, but knowing that Bull had more brandy back inside. The bottle he received was quite large.

“Brat,” Iron Bull teased. “What did you get from your secret Santa? Hopefully not coal.”

Dorian blew into his hands to fight off the chill, purposefully obscuring his face. “I haven’t opened my present yet. I’ll do so when I go back inside.”

Everyone had already opened their gifts about an hour ago and there were no more packages left on the gift table. Whoever had drawn Dorian’s name for the present exchange neglected to bring anything. Dorian couldn’t help but feel the slight, however he didn’t breathe a word of it as he knew how mortified Lavellan would be.

“Oh.” Bull’s shoulders slumped, obviously coming to the correct conclusion. “Well, I bet it’s something nice, like a book,” he said without conviction.

“Perhaps some Tevinter cocoa,” Dorian added distractedly, hoping that Felix had the mind to pack some in the boxes he sent to Dorian.

His thoughts were beginning to wander towards home, of spending quiet holidays with Felix and his family during happier days. Just a year ago he was reading aloud classic Tevinter Wintersend stories in the library of the Alexius home with Felix and his parents as they all drank cocoa and ate cookies that Lady Alexius actually went through the trouble of making herself. All of that seemed like a terribly long time ago.

Bull took a step closer to him and wrapped a heavy arm around his shoulders. Normally Dorian would protest such familiarity, but Bull was awfully warm and Dorian didn’t think to put on his coat before heading outside.

“Dorian.”

“Hm?”

“We’re under mistletoe.”

Dorian blinked. “What? How?”

A large grin spread over Bull’s face and he pointed up at one of his horns, where a sprig of mistletoe was tied to it.

“Not on your life!”

“Aw, come on, where’s your holiday spirit? It’s a tradition!” Bull pulled Dorian into a hug when the mage tried to squirm away. He easily held Dorian against his chest. “Think of it as a Wintersend gift from me.”

“Why do you even have mistletoe on your _horn_!?”

“For moments like this!”

When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of Bull’s arms without resorting to magic, Dorian gave in. “Maker, fine!”

Iron Bull’s face softened and loosened his grip enough so Dorian could escape. “You really don’t have to.”

Dorian hesitated and shook his head. “No, you’re right, it is tradition. Besides, it’ll be a wonderfully scandalous story to tell my friends back in Tevinter that I was kissed by a savage Qunari.”

“Tal-Vashoth,” Bull corrected lightly with a smile.

“Whatever. Just get it over with, you brute,” Dorian said with feigned exasperation.

Closing his eyes, Dorian tilted his face up and waited for his kiss. He expected either a chaste peck or a lewd kiss from the Iron Bull, but he received neither. One strong arm was wrapped firmly around his waist and a hand carded through his hair as rough lips softly pressed against his and slowly coaxed Dorian’s mouth open. There was a teasing swipe of a tongue that gave Dorian a taste of Antivan brandy and of Bull himself, making him moan quietly into Bull’s mouth.

Dorian became hyper aware of everything while kissing Iron Bull. Of Bull’s stubble that pleasantly scraped against his skin and the calloused thumb stroking the nape of his neck. Of how firm Bull’s chest was and the heat that rolled off of him. And how his own hands slid up Bull’s torso and grasped at his wide shoulders, clutching at the scratchy fabric of the sweater.

By the time Dorian started to kiss back, Bull was already pulling away and a pathetic whimper escaped from his throat. Bull’s lips curled up into an insufferably smug smile at the sound and Dorian tried to convince himself that the flush that crept up on his cheeks was from the brandy.

“Come back inside and warm up,” Bull said before pressing another kiss on the corner of Dorian’s mouth and taking a step back.

“I’ll be right behind of you,” he promised, shivering from the loss of Bull’s heat.

Waiting for about five minutes after Bull went back inside, Dorian headed back into the loud din of the party. He instantly saw that Bull was occupied with chatting with a pretty auburn haired dwarf and that Lavellan was busy making her rounds with her guests. Sighing to himself, Dorian found Cullen to pass on his thanks and goodbyes to Lavellan. Dorian grabbed his coat from the pile in the guestroom and exited out the front door to start the long walk back to his apartment.

A few days later on Wintersend Eve, a small package was waiting for Dorian at his apartment door after he returned from an enjoyable dinner at Lavellan’s house. A deep sense of paranoia washed over him, he already received his presents from Felix and there was no return address on the box. His first instinct was to burn it, but it was clear from the postal markings that the box came from Skyhold and not Tevinter, convincing him that it probably wasn’t from his parents. Finally, curiosity won him over and he carefully opened the package.

Inside was a steel travel coffee mug with the words “World’s 2nd Best Vint” on it and a glass jar of Tevinter cocoa with a cheery red and white ribbon tied around it. There was also a Wintersend card with a glittery green design of mistletoe on the front. On the inside a short message read: 

_Dorian,_

_Sorry I forgot your secret Santa present for the party. Happy Wintersend!_

_Your Secret Santa_

There was no signature on the card, though Dorian knew that the person who sent it wasn’t his secret Santa. Still, the gift made him smile and he promptly made the cocoa and poured it into his new mug. He then curled up on his armchair by the window with a blanket and his drink to watch the snow fall.

The cocoa tasted like home, dark and rich with a hint of sweetness and spice. The drink made him think briefly of Felix, but mostly it made him think of a warm kiss on a cold winter night.


	2. Summerday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian introduces Iron Bull to Felix during Summerday.

“Fereldans certainly have a lot more fun celebrating Summerday than we do,” Felix observed in awe.

Dorian grinned in amusement as Felix took in the Summerday celebration being held in downtown Skyhold. The weather was perfect for the holiday, much to the relief of the two Tevinter mages. While Skyhold lacked the humidity Dorian craved, he did find the early summer heat satisfying after suffering through a dreadful winter and a damp spring.

Colorful booths were set up to sell artisan wares and locally grown produce, food vendors cooked copious amounts of grilled meats and fried sweets, and street musicians played an array of cheerful tones. It was all in anticipation for the parade of children that would march down the main street of Skyhold and to the Chantry, where there would be a short service before letting the festivities resume. 

Back in Tevinter, Summerday was a more subdued event. Children still paraded to the Chantry, but then there was a long service about a child’s duties as an adult to his or her family and there was no accompanying celebration beyond what families might do at home. With Dorian’s family there was always a formal dinner, usually filled with announcements about which of their relatives were getting married.

“They certainly enjoy their festivals and fairs,” Dorian replied. “I suspect it’s an excuse to deep fry as many things as possible.”

“I want to try everything! Are they deep frying candy bars over there?”

“Maker, Felix, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian. Like never trying that fried dough with cinnamon sugar over there.”

“You don’t get to drink tonight if you’re going to eat all of that fried food. I don’t want to spend all night taking care of you because you’ve made yourself sick.”

“Yeah, whatever, not listening to you,” Felix sang as he got into line to get his sugar coated fried dough.

“Stop making me the responsible one in our friendship, that’s not how it works!”

“Not listening!”

Dorian sighed dramatically even as he smiled warmly at Felix. It was good to see Felix so energetic after suffering years of ill health and having him there in Ferelden was a soothing balm on Dorian’s homesickness, especially with the anniversary of Dorian’s departure from Tevinter creeping up. Felix arrived in Skyhold a few days before, not long after classes ended for the summer, and planned to stay for a good part of the summer.

Taking out his phone, Dorian took a look at his text messages while he waited for Felix. He wasn’t very surprised to see several from Lavellan. She sent him a barrage of pictures of her shiny new engagement ring, Cullen had obviously proposed while they were away in Rivain. Getting engaged on Summerday was a bit of a cliché, but Dorian didn’t begrudge Cullen’s lack of creativity, knowing how happy the two of them must be.

The engagement reminded Dorian of how decidedly unhappy he was last Summerday when his parents announced his own engagement at dinner, somewhere between the third and fourth course.

Felix returned with his coveted treat, just in time to save Dorian from his own gloomy thoughts. He offered Dorian a bite of his fried dough and didn’t stop pestering him until Dorian tried it. It was still hot, on the verge of burning his tongue, and the heavy taste of oil was tempered by the burst of sweetness from the mixture of sugar and spices. Dorian had to admit that it was pretty good, but refused to eat anymore and settled on watching Felix devour it as they explored more the festival.

“Hey, is it just me or is that giant Qunari waving at you?” 

Felix squinted his eyes at a booth where indeed Iron Bull was waving frantically at Dorian, while Krem was busy attending to the line of customers. Dorian remembered Bull telling him that he’d have a booth for the coffee shop, but Dorian didn’t think about what would happen if he and Felix ran into Iron Bull. He should have known their meeting was inevitable and was just too shortsighted to think of it.

“That would be a friend of mine,” Dorian confirmed after a moment’s indecision. “I suppose we should go say hello.”

As they approached the booth, Dorian noticed that not only was there a sign for Chargers Coffee, but there was a second sign with the words _Kiss the Qunari_. Dorian let out an exasperated laugh, Iron Bull had pitched the idea to him about a week ago. He was sure he said something flippant about it, before giving Bull his blessings to kiss the unwashed masses.

“Dorian! Come for a kiss?” Iron Bull greeted him, leaning forward from the booth and puckering his lips at the mage.

“I hope you aren’t making poor Krem do all the work while you shove your tongue down the throat of everyone willing to give you a copper.” Dorian eyed the rather full jar on the counter in front of Bull. It seemed that Bull had been rather busy.

Krem gave Dorian a long suffering look as his line cleared out. “You know that he is.”

“Hey, we’re donating all of this money and I’m only giving them a peck, no tongue,” Iron Bull defended himself.

Dorian rolled his eyes at Bull. “Anyway, I came to introduce you to my friend, Felix Alexius. Felix, this is the Iron Bull and Cremisius Aclassi. Bull and Krem own the finest coffee shop in Skyhold as they’re the only ones who can make a proper cup of Tevinter coffee.”

“Damn straight,” Krem confirmed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet Dorian’s Fereldan friends,” Felix gushed, shaking both Krem and Iron Bull’s hands as they exchanged greetings.

“Want something to drink? We make a fine Tevinter style iced coffee.”

Felix thanked Krem and happily accepted the drink, but when he tried to pay for it, Krem refused. So Felix dropped a couple silvers into Bull’s jar, saying, “Then I’ll pay for Dorian to get a kiss from Iron Bull.”

Krem shook his head at Felix’s donation and huffed quietly, “They do a lot more than kiss and for free.”

Dorian held his breath, hoping that Felix hadn’t heard Krem, but the slight widening of his friend’s eyes told Dorian that he did. Of course Felix made no other indication that he heard or cared about the statement, he masked his reaction almost perfectly as any good Altus would. But Dorian knew under his neutral expression that Felix’s opinion of Iron Bull immediately changed and he already had lukewarm feelings for Bull as Dorian’s supposed lover. The _Kiss the Qunari_ sign probably didn’t help things.

The only thing he told Felix in regards to Iron Bull was that he owned a coffee shop Dorian frequented and they kissed once during Lavellan’s Wintersend party. He hadn’t breathed a word about how they were currently sleeping together, and had been for the past two months. 

Truthfully, Dorian wasn’t sure what he would say to his friend about Bull. How could he explain to Felix that it started out as a night together to satisfy his curiosity which was sparked in the winter, but it didn’t stop there? That sneaking out of the bed in the middle of the night turned into lingering in the morning to let Iron Bull lazily fuck him when they woke up. That now Dorian looked forward to when they had time to just talk, watch movies, and share meals. He didn’t know how to tell Felix that he and Bull never talked about whatever it was that was going on between them, but he had a key to Iron Bull’s house was on his keychain.

At least Bull didn’t seem to notice Felix’s look, though Dorian learned quickly not to underestimate Bull’s powers of observation. 

“That much money deserves more than just a peck,” Bull declared as the silvers clanged in the jar. He hooked his large hand around the back of Dorian’s neck to pull him in for his purchased kiss. 

The kiss was hardly anything unexpected, he and Bull kissed all the time, but there was always a small flutter of pleasure in Dorian when they did and more so that they were doing it in public. Bull had a way of kissing Dorian like he was someone precious. Even when things got intense in bed and Dorian could feel his watchword on the tip of his tongue, Bull would kiss him with such tenderness that it grounded Dorian, reassuring him that he was safe. 

This kiss wasn’t any different. Iron Bull kissed him with the same tenderness, playfully nipping at Dorian’s lips before sliding his tongue into the mage’s mouth. Dorian managed not to moan, knowing that they had an audience, but his cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen by the time they broke apart.

“Are you guys sticking around for the rest of the festival?” Bull asked casually as if he hadn’t spent the last minute making out with Dorian. “We’re going to be closing up in about an hour for the parade.”

“We’re not sure,” Felix replied shortly, his earlier friendliness obviously cooled. “What else more could there be?”

Ever loyal Krem seemed to notice the shift and pressed, “You definitely need to stay if you’ve never been to a Fereldan Summerday.”

“If you want, we could all get dinner after the parade and wait for the fireworks at the Chantry. Then there’ll be dancing.” Iron Bull’s gaze landed on Dorian and with a bit of a shy smile, he said, “Maybe you’ll let me take you out on the dancefloor and you can teach me some of your fancy Tevinter dances, big guy.”

A brittle hopefulness colored Iron Bull’s words and tone, like he was afraid that Dorian might say no. But there was little that Dorian could deny Bull.

“If you give me ten silk scarves I’ll teach you how I danced back in Tevinter, but I’ve a feeling that wouldn’t be appropriate for Summerday. I’m sure you can turn me on the dancefloor just fine without instruction,” Dorian answered lightly, unable to keep his fondness for Bull out of his voice.

Iron Bull absolutely beamed. “Yeah, I can do that, can’t wait to make everyone jealous with you on my arm. We’ll save the scarves for later.”

The expression on Felix’s face softened. Something in the exchange warmed Felix’s heart towards Bull.

“We’ll come back here in an hour then, before the parade,” Felix promised as he hooked his arm through Dorian’s. “We’re going to see the rest of the festival, this is quite different from how we celebrate back at home.”

“Dorian told me how vints ruin Wintersend with their evil Santa,” Iron Bull griped, “how do they fuck up Summerday?”

“I’ll fill you in, Chief,” Krem sighed. “Go enjoy the rest of the festival. Try to avoid the deep fried candy bars.”

“Damn it, Krem, those are the best part of Summerday!”

Dorian and Felix said their goodbyes and went on to observe more of the celebration. They walked in silence for several minutes until Dorian prodded, “Well?”

Felix didn’t answer right away and then said carefully, “You know how I felt about Rilienus.”

Biting his tongue, Dorian chose not to speak and only nodded in reply. Now was not the time to dig at old wounds, especially not about Rilienus. There were things that Felix refused to understand about the relationship and things Dorian refused to admit to. They couldn’t reconcile in the middle. Forever Felix would see Rilienus as callous and cruel and he lived with the assumption that Rilienus had been ashamed of being with Dorian, while Dorian would always reflect fondly on his time with the other man, despite how it ended.

“I don’t have any of those feelings about Iron Bull,” Felix finished.

The sheer relief that filled Dorian surprised him. He didn’t realize until that moment how much he wanted Felix to like Iron Bull and that Bull was important enough to Dorian that it mattered. He laughed and leaned his head against Felix’s. 

“This may very well be the kindest thing you’ve ever said about one of my lovers.”


	3. All Soul's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian endures a farm for Iron Bull before All Soul's Day.

The celebration of All Soul’s Day in Ferelden wasn’t that different from Tevinter’s celebration. There were somber Chantry services in the morning for the pious to remember the dead, and there were costumes and candy for everyone else. What was different was the Ferelden obsession with pumpkins. 

Dorian didn’t mind pumpkin flavored drinks and baked goods, though he was concerned about the amount of pumpkin spiced flavored products he saw the last time he was in the grocery store. He also didn’t understand the need to use pumpkins as All Soul’s Day decorations. He especially didn’t understand the desire to go to farms to pick said pumpkins. 

Despite how Cullen and Lavellan described the experience to him, with much enthusiasm, Dorian found no allure in it. The thought of willingly going to a farm to pick produce sounded ridiculous to him. Unfortunately for Dorian, All Soul’s Day and all of its trappings was a favorite of Iron Bull’s, according to Krem.

That was how Dorian ended up sitting on a bale of hay in wagon a week before the holiday with Bull, his teeth rattling with every jostle of the cart and his nose stuffing up despite the allergy medicine that Krem gave to him out of pity. He did his best not to rub at his itchy eyes, not to shiver in his sweatshirt against the wind, and not to glare at the wailing child next to him. Whenever Iron Bull looked over at him, Dorian flashed him his most charming smile. 

He had to admit there was some rustic beauty to the farm and the surrounding lands. The rolling hills around the farm were filled with lush greenery and the Frostback mountain range made for a stunning backdrop. The farm was rather quaint, old frame houses served as shops and a restaurant, and the rows of produce and orchards were rather scenic. 

However, the place was crawling with screaming children, the sun was covered by a thick layer of clouds, and the cold sank into Dorian’s bones. The not so subtle smell of the animals from the petting zoo made Dorian want to wrinkle his nose and he just barely managed to keep the disgust off of his face. And there was also an eyesore of a giant pumpkin that the owners of the farm had grown as part of some competition and people willingly paid to get their picture taken in front of it.

The wagon jerked to a stop at the pumpkin patch, where everyone eagerly got off to start searching for the perfect pumpkin to carve and set on their doorsteps. It was a tradition that Dorian was introduced to the year before when he was still new to Skyhold. He put painted fake skulls in his apartment window, as was the tradition in Tevinter, while his neighbors put out their orange atrocities. His decorations quickly identified him as a scary Tevinter Magister and after only a couple days he took them down, but he refused to replace them with orange globes.

But this year was different, he was with Iron Bull and he would do his best to oblige him. It was a small gesture that Dorian could do after all that Iron Bull had done to help him feel at home in Skyhold and for being an indulgent boyfriend.

Iron Bull took his hand and marched him out with Krem and his girlfriend, Lace Harding, into the field amongst rows of vines and a wide variety of pumpkins. The dirt was fairly squishy from rainfall a couple days back and Dorian silently despaired over the fact that it would probably ruin his shoes. At least he took Krem’s advice and wore his gym shoes, along with an old pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

“Having fun, Dorian?” Lace asked with sincerity. “I’ve heard this is your first time at a pumpkin patch,” she almost sounded like she pitied him for missing out. Krem’s pretty dwarf girlfriend was a native of Ferelden and possessed just as much enthusiasm for visiting farms as Iron Bull did.

“Of course I am. Actually, I find myself quite envious that you got to do this all throughout your childhood,” Dorian answered smoothly, which caused Krem to raise an eyebrow at him.

“See! I told you it was fun,” Iron Bull said, obviously pleased by his response and threw his arm around Dorian.

There was a certain pleasure that Dorian received in eliciting that reaction from Iron Bull. Dorian positively beamed at the attention and at Iron Bull’s happiness. It didn’t last long as a fierce gust of wind whisked away the little warmth in Dorian’s heart and body.

Krem and Lace found their pumpkins quickly, they weren’t picky about what they got, and left the field to get coffee at the restaurant. Dorian longed to go with them, but Iron Bull was busy still searching for the perfect one.

“It needs to be large and have a good surface to carve on,” Bull explained as they hunted through the field. “You need make sure there aren’t any blemishes on it that might indicate that it’s beginning to rot. And it should have a good stem that you can pull on.”

Dorian was incredulous that there wasn’t a hint of suggestiveness in Iron Bull’s voice when he talked about having a good stem to pull on.

They were almost to the end of the field when Iron Bull found what he was looking for. It was a monstrosity of a perfectly round pumpkin with a green, hearty stem. There was an open expression of excitement on Iron Bull’s face as he easily hefted it up into his arms. For that moment, Dorian forgot about his muddy shoes and stuffy nose, and smiled at Iron Bull’s childlike joy.

“This will do!” Iron Bull announced. “Come on, let’s go find you one.”

“You’ll have to help me, since you’re such an expert,” Dorian replied pleasantly. “Though do keep in mind that I don’t want one that weighs fifty pounds.”

They continued trudging through the mud and weaving in between groups of overly happily families, until Dorian spotted a white pumpkin. It was an odd shaped thing and not nearly as large as the one Iron Bull picked out, but it reminded him a little of the fake skulls they used in Tevinter and he decided he wouldn’t hate having it on his doorstep. He figured he could even carve a convincing skeleton’s face on it with Bull’s help.

“That’s awfully puny,” Iron Bull protested, “and it’s not even orange.”

“I like to stand out.”

The answer satisfied Bull and they finally left the field to purchase their finds and met up with Krem and Lace. They loaded their pumpkins into Krem’s car and Dorian thought that they were getting ready to go back home, but Lace corrected him.

“We still have to pick apples!” she said.

That activity confused Dorian even more than the pumpkins. They would pay to pick their own apples, even though he could buy them at the store at a cheaper price. His family owned an orchard at their country estate and Dorian used to watch hired hands pick the apples, pears, and cherries from the trees as a child. Sometimes Dorian even snatched a piece of fruit from the overflowing crates, but that was the closest he ever got to picking his own fruit from an orchard.

He was sure none of them wanted to hear that. With the placating smile he often gave to his mother when she wanted him to meet a young lady, he said without a trace of sarcasm, “That sounds delightful.”

“Better yet because Rocky promised to bake us something with what we bring back,” Iron Bull added brightly.

That was an incentive to pick apples, Dorian thought. Rocky supplied Chargers Coffee with baked goods and Dorian was great fan of the dwarf’s work.

Still, it didn’t make the experience much easier. The orchard was almost as muddy as the pumpkin patch and the moisture from the wet soil finally penetrated into Dorian’s socks. There were just as many children running around, shrieking with laughter and crying for whatever reason, and the cloyingly sweet stench of rotting apples was inescapable. At least Iron Bull was kind enough to carry the bag of apples and he looked overly pleased to be picking fruit.

“Feeling out of your element, Altus? I imagine it’s different not having servants do this for you,” Krem teased lightly, watching Dorian pick apples.

“On the contrary, I find it a most enjoyable experience,” Dorian answered with ease, managing to not let his runny nose ruin the effect of his tone.

“Really? Not worried that you might get dirt under your fingernails or scuff your manicure?” 

There was already dirt under Dorian’s nails and thankfully he didn’t splurge on a manicure that week. Reinforcing his smile, Dorian replied, “Sometimes it’s good to get your hands dirty every once in a while.”

“Huh, I think this might be the longest I’ve heard you go without complaining.” 

“And what would I have to complain about? I’m in fine company and out in the lovely Fereldan countryside.”

Krem’s skeptical gaze lingered on Dorian. Out of a merciful kindness, Krem had taken the time to prepare Dorian on what to expect when they went to the farm, probably hoping that Dorian wouldn’t ruin the experience for Iron Bull. Despite that, Dorian knew that his countryman fully expected him to whine the entire time and that he was confusing Krem with his agreeable behavior. Obviously not knowing what to think, Krem shrugged and turned his attention back to Lace.

Iron Bull suddenly paused, thinking about Krem’s words, and silently regarded Dorian. He nearly squirmed under Bull’s gaze, but kept his composure and continued to fill the bag. Not long afterward, Iron Bull declared that they had enough to give to Rocky and led Dorian out of the orchard, leaving Krem and Lace to have some time alone.

After purchasing the apples at a ridiculously high price and placed them in the car, Iron Bull pulled Dorian into the backseat of the vehicle, where it was blissfully quiet and mostly private. He initially thought that Iron Bull wanted to fool around, but then he saw the wretched look Bull had.

“I didn’t think that coming out to the farm would make you so miserable,” Iron Bull said guiltily. 

“What? I’m not miserable,” Dorian protested, but the accompanying sneeze didn’t help prove his point.

“You haven’t complained once.”

“And so you think I’m unhappy?”

“Dorian, I’ve had you blissed out on multiple orgasms and you still manage to moan about how you’re too sticky and cold. When you don’t complain, you’re either miserable or trying too hard.”

That was rather fair point, but when Dorian really thought about it, he wasn’t unhappy. The experience at the farm was a trial, but he did enjoy seeing Iron Bull’s face light up, hearing him laugh, and watching him find the perfect pumpkin. Still, Dorian did mask his reactions and concealed his exasperation and complaints, like he used to do with his parents before he became fed up with it. 

“I’m not miserable,” Dorian repeated. 

Bull frowned disbelievingly.

“Ok, I’m a little miserable, but I think it is mostly from trying too hard. I just like seeing you happy, even if these Fereldan traditions make no sense.”

A small smile crept up on Iron Bull’s face. “Thank you, for trying. And I like it when you complain, that makes me happy or at least more than farms do.”

A sense of relief flooded Dorian. “Very well then. I am freezing, my shoes are filthy, my nose is stuffy, and I’m starving.”

The smile got larger. “This I can deal with. Let’s go into the restaurant to get you warmed up and I’ll get you a slice of pie and some hot apple cider.”

“That may be the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Dorian said honestly. “But first I insist you get your picture taken with me in front of that ridiculously large pumpkin.”

The sheer glee that appeared on Bull’s features almost startled Dorian and he couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up in him as Iron Bull grasped his arm and dragged him out of the car and to the giant pumpkin. Iron Bull was surprisingly quick and he moved like he was afraid Dorian might suddenly change his mind. 

The line for pictures was mercifully short and soon it was their turn. Dorian’s grin came naturally as the photographer gushed over what a cute couple they were. Before the picture could be taken, Iron Bull grabbed his chin and tilted his head up to kiss him. 

The flash of the camera went off just as their lips met and as Bull pulled Dorian flush against him. Dorian’s toes curled in delicious pleasure at the heat of Iron Bull’s mouth on his cold and wind chapped lips.

The photographer beamed at them and gave them a copy of their photo. Something twisted in Dorian, a flutter of happiness and anxiety at the photographic proof of his relationship with Iron Bull. They had a few photographs of the two of them, but none of which where they were kissing. The photograph was placed in a glittery pumpkin shaped frame that Iron Bull purchased at the gift shop once he got the promised pie and cider for Dorian.

A couple days later, the frame appeared in the tiny living room of Dorian’s apartment, after Iron Bull came over with supplies for both carving pumpkins and painting skulls. It sat prominently on a bookshelf, sitting next to a framed photograph of him and Felix at the Summer Day festival. Dorian scowled at the glitter that covered the shelf, complaining loudly to Iron Bull, but he didn’t move it nor did he change the frame.


	4. Satinalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Iron Bull accept an invitation to spend Satinalia with their friends, Lavellan and Cullen, and every Rutherford in Thedas.

The Rutherfords were a large clan of Fereldans, who, as a whole, possessed impeccable hair and the most charming smiles with ridiculously adorable dimples. They also took up every inch of space in Lavellan’s home as almost all of them were tall and broad shouldered. When Lavellan invited Dorian and Iron Bull over for a “quiet” Satinalia dinner with some of Cullen’s family, Dorian didn’t think she meant every possible aunt, uncle, and cousin on this side of Thedas. And from the slight edge of panic in her eyes, neither did Lavellan. But since it was the first gathering of family since the announcement of Lavellan and Cullen’s engagement, every Rutherford wanted to come over for Satinalia dinner.

The whole event made Dorian felt like he was in a weird, parallel universe. Satinalia dinners in the Pavus household were spent with every branch of the family possible. His parents’ mansion would be packed with family members trying to gain favor with his mother and father as they dined on several courses of fine food and wine. Those family members would ask Dorian what he was studying in school and nodded at his answers with thinly veiled disdain and replied with snide comments. 

In the odd parallel universe that Dorian now occupied, the Rutherfords filled Lavellan and Cullen’s home in a similar way, and they dined on several courses of food, albeit on paper plates, and drank Fereldan beer. Everyone was trying to get Lavellan and Cullen’s attention, but to gush over Lavellan’s ring, to find out about how Cullen proposed, and to ask about the upcoming wedding. And people crowded Dorian to ask him questions, but their faces were filled with amazement at his answers.

The Rutherfords were certainly not squeamish about Dorian being a Tevinter mage. While Lavellan’s friends and colleagues gave him a wide berth during her Wintersend party, Cullen’s family was curious about the Tevinter student and his Tal-Vashoth boyfriend. They came in close to find out more about Dorian and were more than ready to be charmed by his manners, appearance, and to fawn over him.

“What do you do, Dorian?” One of Cullen’s aunts asked.

“I’m a graduate student in Lavellan’s department at Skyhold University, I’m getting my PhD in history.”

“Oh, you must be so smart!” Another aunt squealed. “Are you one of Ellana’s students?”

“Unfortunately not, I study the rise of the ancient Tevinter Imperium. However Lavellan’s research on early elven civilizations provides an invaluable perspective to my studies.”

“That’s so interesting,” a male cousin of Cullen’s said without irony or sarcasm. “I’d love to know more about the early Tevinter Imperium. Can you recommend any good books?”

“Of course, I’ll make you a list later.”

“You’re a mage, correct?” an uncle asked.

Tension filled Dorian’s body and he readied himself for questions about blood magic that would make him want to puke. “Yes, I am.”

“That’s great!” the uncle replied with enthusiasm. “You must know some good tricks, a little firework or something like that. You’ll have to show the children later on, they’ll get a kick out of it!”

“Oh! Um, yes, certainly, I’d be delighted to.”

“Your boyfriend does very well with the children,” the first aunt observed, looking across the room at Iron Bull with several of Cullen’s squealing nephews and nieces hanging off of his arms and one bold little girl swung on one of his horns. “What does he do, dear?”

Dorian blushed a little at someone calling Iron Bull his boyfriend out loud. “Bull owns a coffee shop near campus called Chargers Coffee, it’s popular with the students and staff.”

“A business owner, good with children, and so attractive too!” A tall, elderly great aunt declared with joy. “You are so lucky, Dorian.”

A small smile crept up on his face. “I am very lucky.”

“What are you talking about, aunt?” a female cousin protested. “Iron Bull is lucky to have Dorian! Dorian is exceedingly handsome, smart, and a mage.”

Dorian absolutely beamed. “Well, yes …”

“And so well dressed,” another aunt added.

“A bit too skinny though,” the elderly great aunt protested.

“Wait, what?” Dorian blinked, he had never been accused of being too skinny before. He had a clear childhood memory of his mother slapping his hand as he reached for a second cookie, hissing for him to stop stuffing his face. Looking down, Dorian noticed that his once half empty paper plate was somehow full again.

“You should eat more, dear, if you want to keep up with your young man over there,” the great aunt said, patting his arm as Dorian’s face went absolutely crimson. “I’ll go get you some more dinner. Would you like dark or light meat? Never mind, I’ll just get you both and more of those sweet potatoes.”

“But I’m not finished—”

“Another beer, Dorian?” an uncle asked, spying Dorian’s almost empty bottle. “I’ll get you another one.”

“I’m actually—”

“Here’s a slice of pie,” a male cousin handed Dorian another plate.

“Really, I’m quite full.”

“You can’t be, we haven’t even gotten to dessert yet,” another uncle thumped Dorian’s back.

“What do you mean? Pie isn’t dessert?”

“I’ll take that, it looks like Dorian isn’t done with dinner yet,” Lavellan intervened, taking the slice of pecan pie with a polite smile. “I need to borrow Dorian for a moment.”

Lavellan linked arms with Dorian and pulled him away from the mass of Rutherfords. A relieved sigh escaped Dorian’s lips, as much as he enjoyed being admired, but the Rutherfords’ brand of admiration and meddling was more than Dorian could handle. He wasn’t used to that level of approval from, frankly, anyone.

“I gained ten pounds the first year Cullen and I dated, and I’m pretty sure it all came from his family shoving food down my throat,” Lavellan explained once they were out of earshot of Cullen’s family members. She relieved Dorian of his dinner plate, knowing that he was done with it. “They don’t seem to understand that elves tend to be thinner than most humans.”

“I can certainly see where Cullen gets his friendliness, his family is rather welcoming.”

“Trust me when I say that they will all send you a card for Wintersend and you’re probably going to get half a dozen tins of cookies.”

Lavellan ushered Dorian to Iron Bull’s side and threw herself back into the throng of people, fulfilling her familial obligations. The children that were once using Bull as a jungle gym had scurried off once the numerous pies were being served and it gave Dorian the opportunity to take refuge in hiding behind of Iron Bull. He buried his face into the back of Iron Bull’s shirt, hoping to disappear altogether.

“A bit overwhelming, huh?” Bull chuckled.

“We should have gone to Krem’s place,” Dorian muffled answer came.

“Yeah, Krem and the boys like to celebrate the holiday in the truest fashion of Satinalia. Did you know that Satinalia used to be a holiday of partying and drinking, and not stuffing your face with turkey and druffalo while making small talk with family?”

Dorian just groaned into Bull’s back.

“Come on, I spotted an empty room this way.” Iron Bull grabbed Dorian’s hand and tugged him down a hallway. “We can make out for a bit.”

“Maker, yes, lead the way.”

Iron Bull ended up leading Dorian into a quiet sun room on the west side of the house, but it wasn’t as empty as Iron Bull previously thought. A little old lady with thick, fluffy, white hair was sitting on the couch in the room and she smiled pleasantly as Dorian and Iron Bull walked in while holding hands. Earlier, Cullen had introduced her to them earlier as his grandmother, Alma Rutherford.

“Needed to get away from the bustle out there as well?” Alma asked as they came in. 

“Sorry, ma’am, we didn’t mean to intrude,” Iron Bull apologized quickly. 

“I could actually use some company.” She patted the empty couch cushion next to her, fully expecting Dorian to oblige her and sit next to her. He did as beckoned and sat down next to her, surprised as she took his hand into hers and smiled at Iron Bull who sat down on the other side of her. “It’s so nice to have such fine looking young men sit with me,” she said. “You must tell me how long you’ve been together.”

Dorian hesitated as he and Iron Bull didn’t have an official anniversary, there was no so-called first date and Dorian couldn’t pin down when great sex turned into a relationship. But Iron Bull answered with confidence, “Since the spring, ma’am.”

“Quite a while then!” Alma’s face lit up. “You must be engaged by now!”

Dorian nearly sputtered and he could see the slight twitch in Iron Bull’s face, the closest he’d let on to being flustered. Immediately, Dorian shook his head and clarified, “Oh no, we’re not, please don’t get the wrong impression, but it’s really a great deal too early to think of that.”

“Nonsense,” she insisted, “I was engaged to my husband after two months of going steady with him. And there is no need to be sly with me, I know that secret engagements are all the rage, we’re by ourselves here and I’ll keep it to myself.”

Dorian wondered what it was about Cullen’s family and their well-meaning nosiness, and what Alma Rutherford meant about secret engagements. He was also amazed at Iron Bull’s ability to keep a straight face, because Dorian wanted to laugh or cover his face in his hands from embarrassment. It wasn’t that Dorian was unused to having family members speculate over his marital status, but it was the first time that someone talked about it in regards to someone he cared about.

“Well, we didn’t want to distract from Cullen and Lavellan,” Iron Bull fibbed. “Today is really about them.”

Alma perked up, her grin widened and she squeezed Dorian’s hand. “You must tell me everything about your wedding plans.”

“We’re planning an early fall wedding,” Dorian deciding to go along with it if Bull was. “The colors in Ferelden are absolutely stunning during that time of year and I look splendid in red and gold.”

“Probably not for a couple of years though,” Iron Bull added, “have to save up to give him the wedding he deserves.”

“I want nothing less than four courses served at the reception, a five tiered wedding cake, and roses and Crystal Grace everywhere.”

“How elegant!” she gushed. “What will you wear?”

“I want a black tux, the kind Orlesian spies always wear in the movies,” Iron Bull said, his hands mimicking the motions of straightening a bowtie.

Dorian snorted. “You’ll do no such thing. We’ll wear traditional Tevinter wedding robes, we’ll be draped in the finest silks and velvets.”

“I don’t think they make them in my size, big guy.”

“If you’re having the wedding here, then you must go with traditional Ferelden wear trimmed with fur,” Alma insisted, causing Dorian to sniff in half genuine disgust and Iron Bull boomed out a loud laugh. “Well, you don’t need to make these decisions right away, just enjoy your engagement. Now, I’m going give you two sometime alone,” she gave them a knowing look before getting up and shuffling out of the room with the aid of her cane.

Once the door was shut behind of her, Iron Bull and Dorian stared at each other for a few moments before they burst into a fit of hushed giggles. Their laughter finally died down after several minutes and they leaned into each other, taking advantage of some time alone to kiss quietly. It was a lazy slide of lips and tongues, with Dorian’s mustache tickling Iron Bull’s nose and Iron Bull’s stubble scraping against Dorian’s face. They broke off of the kiss slowly and Dorian leaned in closer to Bull, pressing his face against the other man’s neck and closing his eyes from the drowsiness that washed over him.

It was nice to just sit together quietly after a Satinalia afternoon filled with food, alcohol, and chatting endlessly with Cullen’s overwhelmingly kind family. Dorian felt warm and content snuggling up with Iron Bull, humming in pleasure as Bull stroked his hair. Holidays in Tevinter were often events to be endured as Dorian became an adult and he never thought he could have something like this during the holiday season, curled up with a boyfriend in a moment of peace and mutual affection.

That peace was rudely interrupted as Lavellan and Cullen stormed into the room, their eyes were wide with confusion. There was the dull roar of applause and shouts of joy from the Rutherford clan, sounding like they were direct at some happy couple. Cullen’s face with was filled with delight and he was quick congratulate Dorian and Bull for reasons unknown to them.

Lavellan looked less amused and her eyes were filled with disbelief as she blurted out, “You two are engaged!?”


	5. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian reflects on the disappointment of previous First Days and Iron Bull is happy to start new traditions.

The accusing red glow of numbers on Iron Bull’s alarm clock informed Dorian that it was nearly eleven in the morning and he had yet to get out of bed. Unless Iron Bull was there to distract him, Dorian rarely stayed in bed past nine, but he made an exception for First Day Eve. It was a holiday that should have appealed greatly to Dorian, late night drinking and kisses at midnight, but First Day was probably his least favorite holiday.

First Day was a time for new beginnings and Dorian always struggled with those. He remembered sharply of being twelve years old, on the cusp of adolescence, and lying in bed on First Day Eve just a few days after his mother caught him kissing an older boy. How he stared up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom and resolved to be the perfect son, to never kiss another boy, to never disappoint his parents again. None of those things came to pass that year, or the next, or any other after that.

So when Iron Bull got out of bed that morning to go run errands for his and Krem’s First Day Eve party, Dorian declined to go with him and just cocooned himself in the blankets and settled in the warm spot his boyfriend left behind. He let himself stew over the failed resolutions he made the year before when he was still a new face in Skyhold. The year before Dorian had hardly left his bed at all as he silently resolved to establish a life in Ferelden and to not let his parents control him.

To be fair to himself, he did establish a life in Ferelden. Dorian had a small, but loyal, circle of friends, his progress on his doctorate was going well, and he had a wonderful boyfriend. But his mother sent him a First Day card a couple days ago and it sent him into a fit of depression that he hadn’t felt since the year before, when his mother sent him a text message asking when he’d be visiting home.

There was nothing cruel or abusive in the messages his mother sent, those actually would have been easier for Dorian to deal with. But it was the innocence of the card and the text that drove Dorian into his depression, the lack of acknowledgment that anything was wrong, that Dorian was being unreasonable, and it left him to wonder if he truly was being overly dramatic and unreasonable to his parents. It was that sliver of doubt that his mother skillfully planted in him that broke his resolution, he allowed her to exert some control over him when he opened her card and read her text.

Lying in bed, Dorian silently made his next round of resolutions to be broken. He briefly resolved not to screw things up with Iron Bull, but quickly nixed that as he didn’t want to jinx the best thing going for him with his stupid resolutions. He then resolved to make more friends and to start afresh next First Day Eve, to not let himself wallow in pity. 

It was too late for that First Day Eve as he was already on his spiral and he didn’t care to take himself out of it. Dorian would make an appearance at the First Day Eve party that Iron Bull and Krem threw every year at their coffee shop, and then feign a headache after midnight and catch a cab back home. The party at the coffee shop was a bit of an exclusive event, only people who were invited could attend and according to Sera, an elf who attached herself to Dorian and a mutual friend of his and Lavellan’s, they were epic. 

The year before Iron Bull had invited Dorian, handing him a ridiculous paper invitation with a picture of a cartoon bull drinking from a champagne bottle.

“I give these to all of our favorite customers. Hope you’ll come, can never have too many pretty faces at a First Day Eve party,” Iron Bull had said once Dorian took the invitation.

Dorian had snorted at the comical invitation and ignored Iron Bull’s compliment. He knew that Bull flirted with everyone and at the time possessed no inclination that they might become intimate one day. Not that he wasn’t curious or attracted to Bull, but back then it seemed like more effort than what it was worth.

“While I am a pretty face, I can hardly be a favorite customer,” Dorian quipped. “I nurse a cup of coffee for hours while depriving your real customers of a table.”

“Yeah, but you’re the best to look at,” Iron Bull gave him a filthy grin.

Dorian just rolled his eyes and an arrogant smirk tugged at his lips. “Of course I am, have you seen my profile? Far superior to any of these Fereldans.”

Later Iron Bull would come back to his table with a sandwich and a cookie after topping off his coffee without charge, claiming that Dorian had to eat something as he hadn’t moved from his seat through the lunch hour. He also asserted that any other First Day Eve party Dorian might have been invited to would be boring compared to his. The next day, when Dorian went back to the coffee shop to read another book for his dissertation, Iron Bull took the time to show him pictures on his phone of the party from the previous year and even Dorian had to admit that it looked like a good time.

There were no other parties that Dorian was invited to and he ended up not going to Bull’s. Instead he laid around all day watching Netflix on his laptop and munching on treats from Tevinter that Felix had sent him in a care package.

Looking back on it, Dorian wished he had at least made an appearance at the coffee shop. Iron Bull was being particularly sweet to him for inviting him and, knowing how sharp and observant Bull was, he probably had a suspicion that Dorian had nowhere else to go for the holiday. Maybe Iron Bull would have kissed him then, sweeping him up in a dramatic First Day kiss at the stroke of midnight, and maybe Dorian would have slept with him. 

But then again, maybe it would have been too early for that, at the time Dorian had been too raw from his departure from Tevinter and he still chafed under the miserableness of his reduced status. Perhaps if they kissed and slept together on First Day, Dorian wouldn’t have Iron Bull a year later, and he’d just be a notch on the bedpost and a story to brag about later. And Bull would be just another fling of Dorian’s that he’d spin into a tale of too much drinking and lack of inhibitions.

Dorian shook off those thoughts. He didn’t go to Iron Bull’s First Day Eve party, but he did go to Lavellan’s Wintersend celebration, and despite the humiliation he suffered, it was worth it to receive his kiss from Iron Bull then. Dorian was sure that was what started their relationship and though they wouldn’t sleep together until that spring, the memory of the kiss kept Dorian interested during the in between time, it kept him curious and hungry for more. It was just as well that Dorian didn’t go to Bull’s party last year, he decided, or else he might not be in Bull’s bed at that moment.

The door to Iron Bull’s apartment opened and closed, signaling that Iron Bull was done with his errands. He should have gotten up to greet Bull, but Dorian just buried his face under the pillow, even as the bedroom door opened and the mattress sank down under Iron Bull’s weight.

“Still in bed, huh?” Fingers ran through Dorian’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Are you coming down with something, kadan?”

“Just tired, amatus.”

“That’s usually Dorian speak for ‘on the verge of death and too tired to complain about it.’”

Dorian smiled into the pillow. “I am perfectly well, just resting up for your party.”

“Really? I kind of figured you didn’t want to go.”

“What makes you say that?” Dorian raised his head and looked sharply at Bull. He was so careful about showing enthusiasm by asking Iron Bull questions about it, fussing about what he would wear, and complaining about the alcohol and food selection.

“Hey, don’t get so defensive, you had me fooled until this morning.”

Dorian made a motion with his hand for Iron Bull to get on with it.

“Krem buries himself in bed like this every Satinalia, why do you think he throws a huge party and gets smashed instead of having a dinner? Too many memories about home, he says. I sort of thought it might be the same for you on First Day and you seemed rather down the other day.”

Sitting up, Dorian ran a hand through his assuredly messing hair and sighed. “It has less to do with memories, but it certainly has its roots in family issues. I suppose in a sense you’re lucky that growing up in the Qun you don’t have terrible families to associate the holidays with.”

“We didn’t have holidays under the Qun,” Iron Bull reminded him, though there wasn’t any self-pity behind it, he was just stating a fact. “Probably would’ve been a lot of fun when I was kid, but I see what you mean, I don’t have any weird hang ups about holidays.”

No, but Dorian didn’t miss the flash of longing in Iron Bull’s eye whenever he heard someone speaking in Qunlat or the way his jaw clenched whenever a ship sank in a movie. 

“So what is it about First Day that gets you down?” Iron Bull asked, his hand covering Dorian’s.

This was the state of Dorian’s life, he ruefully reflected. He was in a monogamous relationship with a Tal-Vashoth coffee shop owner, whom he to talk about his feelings in a way he never had before. He half lived in Iron Bull’s apartment and they discussed Dorian moving in once his lease was up. He was never tempted by another man, his thoughts never wandered, and most of the time he just wanted to go to Iron Bull’s place and cuddle with him on the couch. It was all disgustingly domestic and he loved every minute of it.

And he told Bull everything. About his mother catching him making out with another boy before First Day and how angry his parents were. About his broken resolutions to be the perfect son and his parents’ disappointment in him. About how he stopped trying, but it never stopped hurting. And about the card his mother sent and his own doubts. 

“They’re the ones who are wrong, not you. For fuck’s sake, Dorian, your dad wanted to use blood magic on you and your mom did nothing about it! Let them be disappointed that their fucked up standards aren’t met,” Iron Bull growled, he always got worked up whenever they talked about Dorian’s parents.

“Yes, well … Anyway, doesn’t mean I have to miss your party like I did last year,” Dorian replied, he was quite done with the topic for the time being.

“I was sad that you didn’t come, I was hoping I’d make you come later that night.” Iron Bull let the subject drop and winked at Dorian with his one eye, making Dorian laugh as the gesture always did. “Well, I was thinking that I’d go for the start of the party, pick up some takeout on the way home, and spend the evening watching movies with you. Maybe even get into your pants since I didn’t last year,” Iron Bull grinned teasingly.

That sounded like the most perfect idea Dorian had ever heard. “No,” he insisted, “it’s your party and you love throwing it, you need to stay at least until midnight.”

They bickered over it, nothing heated or emotional, but it was an exchange that ended in them playfully wrestling in the bed, Dorian breathless as Iron Bull pinned him to the mattress. But in the end, Dorian managed to get Iron Bull to promise to stay at the party until midnight. Bull begrudgingly left around six and Dorian stayed behind at Iron Bull’s apartment, doing nothing except sit around in his pajamas, watching TV, and his one accomplishment of the day was summoning to the will to take a bath. 

But he wasn’t the least bit shocked that at half past eight, the door opened and Iron Bull came in with several bags of takeout from the Tevinter restaurant Dorian adored. He couldn’t help but be pleased that Iron Bull returned, even as he protested that Bull should have stayed.

Bull piled rice and spicy curry onto Dorian’s plate and with a half-smile said, “Can you blame me for coming back, kadan? I missed you.”

“I suppose I really can’t blame you at all, I am rather marvelous,” Dorian answered haughtily.

“That you are. Plus, Krem told me to leave, he said that I was sulking and bringing down the mood.”

“Of course you were. You were very cruelly deprived of my company and I promise to never send you away again, amatus.”

The smile widened on Bull’s face. “I’m going to hold you to that. Besides, it’s time to start some new traditions for the holidays, something we’ll both enjoy. Takeout and movies can be our thing for First Day Eve.”

Hope and joy always blossomed in Dorian whenever Bull talked about the future. “If we're changing up traditions, does this mean we no longer have to go to pumpkin patches for All Soul’s Day?” Dorian asked, perhaps a touch too hopefully.

“Absolutely not!” Iron Bull said with horror. “We’re going to pumpkin patches until we’re withered and old.”

Despite the prospect of being dragged to Fereldan farms every fall until he was an old man, Dorian beamed at Iron Bull’s answer.

They curled up on the couch together with their dinner and watched movies until it was almost midnight and they switched the TV to the countdown to First Day. Dorian missed the fireworks as the count came down to zero as Iron Bull had already pulled him up onto his lap to kiss him. It was the new year when their lips finally parted and Dorian could only imagine how he looked as he straddled Bull’s lap in his pajamas, unkempt hair, and kiss swollen mouth. Any self-consciousness Dorian might have felt about his appearance, his hang ups, and his string of broken resolutions, melted away from the way Iron Bull looked at him, his gaze soft and wanting.

“I love you, amatus,” Dorian whispered, his forehead pressing against Bull’s. 

It wasn’t the first time he said it, but he always got a little nervous saying it. Years of holding lovers at a distance didn’t give him time to be completely comfortable with his own emotions. But Iron Bull always smiled when Dorian said it and never in a placating or condescending manner. He always smiled like Dorian had given him something precious and unexpected.

“Love you too, kadan, always.”


End file.
